Eye of the Beholder

and saw Dancing Satyr. He could have sworn that the damn statue winked at him.
    He remembered how he had caught Alexa trying to stuff the figure into a closet on the night of the reception. He smiled to himself.
    "I may keep you even if you do turn out to be a fake," he said aloud.
    He slid the card key through the lock and pushed open the door. The suite was cool and dark. Sort of like Harmony Spring cave, he thought as he put the coffee down on the counter. But at least here he didn't experience that weird sense of being an intruder in a mysterious world.
    The housekeeping team had closed the drapes and turned on the air conditioner when they cleaned. He paused at the thermostat and switched it back to the off position. Then he opened the French doors onto the balcony. He much preferred the fresh air of the desert, even when it was on the hot side.
    He slid aside the screen that concealed the desk with its array of high-tech business accoutrements. For a moment he studied the miniature office, trying to decide what was wrong.
    Housekeeping had strict instructions not to straighten any papers or personal items that a guest had left on a desk. That policy went double in the owner's suite.
    He was almost certain that he had left the notepad on top of the morning edition of the Avalon Herald. The pad was sitting beside the phone now.
    The entire housekeeping staff was new. It was possible someone had forgotten the instructions regarding desks.
    He opened the first drawer, picked up the small stack of papers inside, and thumbed through them quickly. There was nothing of critical importance in the pile of notes he had made. Most concerned minor management details he intended to discuss with Nathan and Pete Santana. One or two related to public relations matters he wanted to hand off to Glenda Elaine.
    The important file, the one compiled by Phil Okuda, was safely locked in the suite's wall safe.
    The only interesting thing about the small stack in his hand was that it seemed to be out of order. He was willing to bet that someone had rifled through it.
    A curious or poorly brained employee might have flipped through the papers out of curiosity. That kind of thing was not supposed to happen in an Avalon Resort hotel, but occasionally the wrong person got hired.
    It was also possible that someone had searched his room while he and Alexa were at Harmony Spring. Given the general chaos that attended any hotel opening, it would have been possible for someone to slip through security.
    "You're getting nervous, aren't you, you son-of-a-bitch? That's good. That's very, very good. Nervous people make mistakes."

19

    The Guardian downed the last swallow of the herbal tea and watched the sun set outside the cave. The light was slowly, inevitably consumed by the dark. The symbolism appealed.
    Consciousness expanded in the absence of light. Awareness deepened. Perception strengthened.
    The Guardian studied the ebb and flow of the shifting vortices. The negative energy was running high now. Dangerous stuff if one were not careful. But what a rush.
    It had been twelve years since that intoxicating power had been tapped; twelve years since the last time it had been necessary to kill in the line of duty. The surge of personal energy was unbelievable.
    It was amazing how much easier it had been this time. How much more satisfying.
    Looking back, the Guardian understood that it was not a lack of necessity that had kept the defender of the Institute from killing for the past twelve years. It had been fear. A simple, paralyzing fear of getting caught.
    But now it was clear that would never happen.
    Last night's triumphant success was a sign. The great work must go forward. It all had to be done quickly while the dark energy storm pulsed so strongly below the surface of Avalon.
    The Guardian was ready. The last of the old anxiety and the terrible fear that had been so overwhelming twelve years ago had died along with Guthrie. Power had taken the place of those incapacitating emotions.
    This time the sexual release was shattering in its intensity.

20

    Alexa hunched over the phone. "I know we've never met, Mrs. Guthrie, but I'm a friend of Joanna Bell's."
    "She's mentioned you." Liz Guthrie sounded impatient and distracted on the other end of the line. "But I really don't have time to talk right now. This is my meditation hour. My Dimensions guide says I must develop more self-discipline. I'm trying to meditate every day at the same